i had a dream in the early hours
of looking out a window and
seeing pale frost-flecks falling; of
dancing with blurs of my father
and putting my mother to bed.
upon waking, i traveled through
centuries of stories — of weeping
and laughing and wishing; sad-strong
thinking pushed me up a mountain
where i sought an open sky
i didn’t know i was seeking:
a long stretch of billowing light —
fading blues; fleeting pinks and
golds beyond capturing; sight-
less wonder holding its breath.
i kept walking toward what i could
not touch — toward the infinite
arm touching me. i kept longing
to climb-crawl right into the sky.